


Night Hunters

by grelleswife



Series: Kuroshitsuji Ladies Appreciation Week 2020 [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Frances loves her brother even though he gets on her nerves, Gen, Ghosts, Protective Siblings, Siblings, Spirits, Supernatural Elements, the Phantomhive manor is a dangerous place even for the Phantomhives themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Young Frances and Vincent Phantomhive sneak out of bed to search the manor for ghosts. Are they the hunters, or the hunted?
Relationships: Francis Midford & Vincent Phantomhive
Series: Kuroshitsuji Ladies Appreciation Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758298
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Night Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily inspired by a set of awesome drawings of child!Frances and Vincent done by mauricesmoon on Instagram. Please visit their page to show them some support! I obtained their permission to base the fic off those drawings prior to writing.
> 
> Of course, the following events have virtually no basis in the manga or anime canon. But darkness ran through the Phantomhive bloodline long before Sebastian's arrival, and it makes sense to me that the family has a closer connection to the supernatural than most.
> 
> Possible trigger warnings for children in peril, fear of the dark, and malevolent entities.

Frances should’ve been asleep an hour ago, but restlessness kept her tossing and turning. She wasn’t tired. Why did Mother make Vin and her go to bed so early when _she_ got to stay up as late as she liked with Father and Tanaka for those exciting Watchdog things? They weren’t babies anymore. They were _ten_ , which was practically the same as being proper grown-ups, in Frances’s estimation.

The knocks rang out like a call to arms, one long, three short.

 ** _RAT_** _tat-tat-tat_

She chewed her bottom lip, wondering if she should ignore him. Her brother was one of the most annoying creatures to walk God’s earth. But staying put was just plain boring…

**_RAT_ ** _tat-tat-tat_

“Franny, I know you’re awake in there. Frannyyyyy…”

She let out an impatient huff, threw back the covers, and leapt out of bed, padding towards the door. As expected, she opened it to see Vin standing outside, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. He carried a lit candle in his right hand, which he moved beneath his chin to cast spooky shadows over his face.

Frances, who’d seen this display more times than she could count, merely glowered and crossed her arms.

“If you came to bother me with stupid tricks like that, I’m going back to bed.”

She turned on her heel in disgust, but Vin grabbed her arm with his free hand.

“Wait, Franny!” he pleaded. “Don’t you want to do something fun?”

“Like what?” she asked suspiciously.

Vin’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Like…ghost hunting.”

Now _that_ was a cat of an entirely different color.

“But what if Mother catches us?” she objected halfheartedly, as if her mind wasn’t already made up.

“She’s in the study with Father, talking about those insurrectionists from the other day. I checked,” Vin declared smugly. “They’ll never know as long as we’re quiet.”

Mother strictly forbade them from wandering the manor alone at night.

‘The estate is a dangerous place when shadows fall,’ she’d admonish her children.

That didn’t sit well with Vin and Franny. They knew that some people who crossed their threshold never walked out, learning too late that Phantomhive hospitality was a double-edged sword. Brother and sister weren’t enemies of the queen like those people. _They_ were Phantomhives. This was their home.

Why would Mother object to a little harmless ghost hunting? When so many ne’er-do-wells had met gruesome ends in their house, there had to be a ghost or two, and they were determined to find one.

“If we’re going ghost-hunting, we’ll need protection. Did you bring any weapons?”

“My _mind_ is my weapon, dear sister.”

Frances fixed him in a double-barreled glare. “You won’t stop a spectre by reciting Virgil at it. A good Watchdog should be on their guard at all times. Don’t you learn _anything_ from your lessons with Mother?”

“Mother says dogs work best in packs. That’s why we have allies like the Villainous Nobles…or a brave sister with a sword,” Vin retorted with a cheeky grin.

Frances rolled her eyes but dashed back to retrieve the sword propped against her bedroom wall. Its weight was solid and reassuring. With blade in hand, she became a valiant knight who could slice her foes clean through in a single blow.

“All right, then,” she said after giving it a few test swings. “A-hunting we go!”

That was one problem they hadn’t yet solved. How exactly did one _find_ a ghost? Spirits didn’t leave tracks like a deer, nor were they lured out of hiding with treats like the worm on a hook that snagged a fish. In most stories she’d heard, ghosts appeared to you (or not) whenever they pleased. The only strategy they knew of was simple trial and error.

She and Vin crept barefoot down the hallway. The plush carpet muted their footsteps, making Fran as silent and deadly as a tiger on the prowl. August forebears in family portraits lining the walls looked disapprovingly down their noses at her, seeming to chastise Frances for sneaking around after hours. Those dusty old people didn’t phase her. She and Vinny would have their adventure whether anyone else liked it or not!

“Maybe we should check the library again,” Vincent mused.

“We explored it top to bottom last week,” Frances protested. “And we’ve done the cellar, the stables, the servants’ quarters…”

“I don’t fancy almost getting spotted by Tanaka again,” Vin shook his head.

“That wouldn’t have happened in the first place if _someone_ hadn’t knocked over an antique vase like a clumsy-boots.”

Vin pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh…keep your voice down.”

“Hmpf!” Franny stuck out her tongue. As usual, he didn’t want to admit that his sister was right.

“What about the Collection, then?”

“Hmm…lots of old things there…maybe one of them has a spirit attached to it. Like Aladdin’s genie in the lamp. Or they’d attract ghosts that were already here to begin with…” Franny nodded thoughtfully.

Over the years, past Watchdogs had acquired all sorts of memorabilia, from confiscated weapons to mysterious texts in arcane languages. A large upstairs room was designated as the storage area for these items, which had come to be known as “the Collection” by family and servants alike. However, Mother seldom spoke of the place and had never allowed them in there on their own. The contents were usually kept under lock and key, but both Phantomhive children were adept at persuading closed doors to open. Give them a hairpin and a little time, and no lock could bar their way.

“Let’s go!” Vin urged, eyes alight with excitement as he raised his candle like winged Nike wielding her torch.

While they wove through the maze of corridors and stairwells, Frances stayed on high alert, brandishing her sword at any stray shadow cast by the flickering light. They both kept an eye out for servants, but no one appeared to scold them or demand to know what they were doing out of bed.

The darkness surrounded them hungrily, clawing at the golden halo of candlelight that was their only shield. Franny knew the manor’s layout well enough to walk it blindfolded. However, it was disconcerting how night turned the house into unfamiliar territory that had yet to be charted. A little spooky, even, though she wasn’t _scared_. Still…Frances felt an uncomfortable pricking between her shoulder blades, like when someone in a crowded room had their eyes on her without her noticing. Silly, since no one was watching them. No one. She’d checked. Four times at least, turning quickly, prepared to face the attacker. She shouldn’t worry. She and Vin were seasoned ghost-hunters by this point. They could handle whatever the other side threw their way.

Scraping. Faint, coming from some distance behind them. Like fingernails slowly being dragged along the wall. Vin went rigid, and she knew he’d heard it, too.

She whirled around and held out her sword in front of them. “What was that noise, Vinny?” Her voice sounded tight and thin.

“I don’t know, Fran,” he stammered, bravado draining away. He grabbed her nightgown sleeve and drew closer, passing the candle back and forth to illuminate the hall. The holder shook in his unsteady grip, causing the flame to dip dangerously low. There was nothing there.

They froze in place like frightened rabbits. Frances listened not merely with her ears but with her whole body. Every muscle tensed. _Rea-dy, rea-dy_ , her heart thumped. Silence was the only answer.

“Must’ve been imagining it,” Vin chuckled a bit too forcefully. The sound was swallowed up by dead air.

“We heard _some_ thing, Vinny,” Frances insisted. “You’ve got to face facts.”

Vin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well…uh…maybe it was a rat. Anyway, let’s get going.” He strode ahead with the briskness people assume when they don’t want to dwell on their thoughts for too long. Franny had to trot to catch up with him.

Frances knew bloody well that wasn’t a rat. She wasn’t any old girl, though. She was Frances Phantomhive, lady knight and ghost huntress. She wouldn’t let a weird noise in the dark reduce her to a lily-livered coward.

Two rights, a left, another right. Almost there.

Then the noise started up again. Louder this time. Closer.

“Who’s there?!” Frances cried defiantly. She spun around and slashed her sword…through thin air.

“You can’t mess with us!” Vin added. “I’ll be Watchdog to the Queen someday, and I know at least eleven ways to kill you on the spot!”

Once again, their brash words were met by silence. A wrong kind of silence. Not the simple absence of noise, but the hush of a beast staying perfectly still so as not to be heard by its prey. Lying in wait.

She frowned, and her very being recoiled from the presence lurking in the gloom. There was something there. It wasn’t human. She knew that for certain, though she couldn’t say how. Sweat trickled down her back, cool and wet.

She turned to whisper to Vinny. “Maybe we should call it quits. Take another route back to our rooms.”

“But we’ve come this far,” he argued. “We’re practically at the Collection already. It wouldn’t make sense to leave without even exploring. Or are you too much of a scaredy-cat?”

“I’m not afraid!” she spat, bristling. She wasn’t going to let her stupid brother show her up. Her common sense told her that Vin was probably trying to deflect his own fear and that there was genuine cause for concern, but her indignation won out.

They had nearly reached the door when yet another sound started, this time from up ahead. So faint that Fran almost doubted her ears. Like the padding of the dogs when they ran through the house. It seemed…off, however. Then, Frances realized what the problem was.

Dogs didn’t have that many legs.

A pair of red eyes opened in front of them. Glaring, burning. Filled with fury and malice. Frances’s legs went numb, and Vin turned white as a sheet. It was difficult to tell exactly what the creature looked like in the dim lighting, but it reminded Frances of a hound…or rather, a drawing of a hound made by a child who’d never seen one before, guided by a woefully incomplete description. The angles were too sharp, and the chest too broad, and it definitely had more than the four legs God bequeathed to respectable dogs. It was the size of a draft horse, looming over them. Its shaggy fur was such a deep black that its silhouette was clearly emphasized even in the dark passageway.

A low, murderous growl rumbled from its throat as it approached them.

Hot anger surged through Franny. They were minding their own business hunting ghosts, and now this blasted thing was threatening to attack them when they’d done nothing wrong!

Planting her feet firmly on the carpet, she pointed her blade directly at the monster’s head, firm and unyielding in spite of her fright.

“Stand back, you beast! I’m Frances Phantomhive, and I’ll chop you to pieces!” she declared.

The creature paused. It had no mouth, yet it laughed, and faint amusement filled its eyes. The dog-thing inclined its head to look at Frances. She gritted her teeth and held firm, carrying her head high.

 _Braaaveeeee chiiiiiild,_ it said.

It came close enough for her to reach out and touch, if she’d dared. She got the not altogether agreeable impression that it was sizing her up. Vinny trembled violently beside her, and hardly dared to breathe.

_Naughty children shouldn’t pryyyyyy…but for the little warrrrrriorrrrr…a head staaaaart._

It bowed, forelegs splayed on the floor and hindquarters in the air. A grotesque parody of the gesture dogs make when they wish to play.

 _Rabbits…ruuuuuuun_.

They didn’t need to be told twice. Whirling around so fast they almost crashed into each other (and Franny came dangerously close to slicing Vin’s nightshirt), the children tore back down the passageway from whence they came. Vin clung onto his candle with a dead man’s strength. His other hand, clammy with terror, clumsily latched onto Franny’s. She gripped it as if their lives depended on it. Maybe they did.

“Is it following us?” Vin choked out.

“Don’t look back.” Frances wasn’t sure where the admonition came from, but the same instinct that had alerted her to the creature’s presence warned her that that would be a very foolish thing to do.

Legs pumping, heart in her throat.

“Don’t dilly-dally. Let’s get out of here.”

For once, her flippant brother had no witty retort at ready. He nodded shakily and stumbled after her.

She had to keep a clear head. She had to. That was the only way they’d escape. She kept her internal map of their house fixed firmly in her mind, navigating the twists and turns.

The monster was behind them, and gaining. She _sensed_ it, and heard the footfalls once more.

“Faster, Vin!”

She hauled him along with all her strength, and practically sobbed from relief when they arrived at her bedroom.

They leapt in, slammed the door shut, locked and bolted it, and shoved a hefty chair against it for good measure. As they did so, there was a thud, as if a large dog was leaping against the door. The knob rattled ominously. Frances grabbed a second chair just in case.

 _Naughty children shouldn’t pryyyyy,_ the not-voice repeated. And then, just like that, the presence was gone.

They both stayed in Frances’s room for the rest of the night. Neither got a wink of sleep. They huddled close together beneath the covers, shaking uncontrollably, listening for the slightest sound out of place. Frances kept her sword by her side, ready to grab at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll protect you,” she assured Vin, wrapping her arms around him. Whatever that… _thing_ …was, she wasn’t going to let it hurt a hair on her brother’s head, even if he was incorrigible most of the time.

“Fr-Franny…thanks…for what you did back there,” Vinny whispered. “You were so damn plucky. You might have saved our hides.”

“I _did_ save our hides, and you can thank me by not getting into stupid scrapes,” she chastised him. “And you’re welcome,” she added with a brusque hug.

Franny didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to see the sun when its first rays streamed through her window. Only then could Vin bring himself to return to his own chambers. If he wasn’t back before Tanaka woke him, the butler would be suspicious.

Exhausted and bleary-eyed, they nearly nodded off at the breakfast table. Mother eyed them keenly.

“I trust you slept well?” she asked, a razor-sharp point to the question.

“Capital.” Vin flashed a silver-plated smile that would have fooled anyone but Mother.

“Nightmares,” Frances mumbled. She hated lying outright, but Mother would be furious if she knew how close Vinny and she had come to meeting an untimely end.

She reflected on her earlier joke with Vincent that they might find Aladdin’s genie in the lamp somewhere in the Collection. Perhaps there were certain items in that room with _guardians_ …and maybe those guardians didn’t take kindly to people who came too close.

Of course, that ghost hunting expedition was far from their last. Children’s inquisitiveness cannot be kept at bay forever. But after their perilous ordeal, they never, ever set foot near the Collection again.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, Undertaker/Claudia is canon in this AU. Therefore, France's ability to sense the creature's presence is a manifestation of her reaper instincts. I headcanon that those same instincts are partially responsible for her deep-seated antipathy towards Sebastian.


End file.
